The SecretKeeper's Betrayal
by ano-nimmus
Summary: A revised threepart story about Peter's betrayal, the death of the Potters, Sirius' madness, and the defeat of Voldemort. THIRD CHAPTER UP! COMPLETE!
1. Regretted Answers

**This is a revised version of an old story. Maybe it still looks short, but believe me, it's a LOT longer than the first version of this chapter. I've added on more than 700 words! So yeah.**

**Enjoy!  
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I – Regretted Answers

October 30, 3:52 AM

The Dark Lord was not one for knocking. Or even for blasting his way in, unless he had to. Peter half wished he had done just that. Having Lord Voldemort Apparate within six inches of your face was not the pleasantest of experiences.

The fearsome face of his master peered at Peter. "You are a Death Eater, are you not?" he asked in a cold, hissing voice.

"Yes, my lord," whispered Peter, trembling slightly. "I am sorry, my lord, for not coming to the gathering last night. James and Lily invited me for supper, and I have not gone the last two times they invited me, and I thought I should go in case they got suspicious, and also I wondered if I might gather more information, and--." He was babbling, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that the Dark Lord must not kill him…

"Silence, fool," hissed Voldemort. Fear silenced Peter instantaneously. His face was pale, and he was wringing his hands. Voldemort cast him a look of contempt before continuing: "It is time," he hissed. "You will tell me their whereabouts now. The attack will wait no longer. His lips curved upwards. And it did reach his eyes. But not in a kind way, not remotely. His eyes were cold and as sharp as a knife just taken off the sharpening stone.

"M-must I, my lord?" Peter asked sadly, knowing the answer. "The way they trusted me…"

Voldemort looked at him. Just looked. "Yes, my lord," said Peter, in the smallest voice he could speak in and that Voldemort could still hear.

He started to speak, and then paused. "Lord," he asked, "could you… At least, could you spare James and Lily?"

Voldemort gave a vicious grin. "I will spare the elders, If I can," he said. "However, I believe they will be… protective. And I may have to kill them. If they do not resist, I will, but…" He let the sentence hang in the air, and finished off with another frightening smile.

Peter sighed. If Lily or James survived, they would think well of old Wormtail, thinking he had given over his life for them. There would be no danger… unless they found out he was alive. That he had rallied with You-Know-Who, the Dark Prince, the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. With Voldemort. Then they would seek revenge, no questions asked. Sirius and Remus would join them. His friends… out to kill him. But he owed James and Lily that one question, at least. He wasn't ready to give them his most. His life.

What was so precious about life? The fact that you were walking, and living, and breathing, and talking, and loving? What was it _about_, really? Why did he want life so much?

_Say it, Peter,_ he scolded himself. _Act like the storybook heroes you're so fond of. Tell him that you'd rather die than betray your friends._ He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He gasped and tried again. This time, a single word came out: "No." It came out in a quiet, sad whimper. Voldemort did not hear.

"Tell me," Voldemort rasped suddenly. He gripped Peter by the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, until their faces were barely a centimeter away. "Tell me where they are, or I send my Death Eaters to the houses of your friends Black and Lupin. Their houses are _not _protected by a Fidelius charm."

Peter then saw a chance for escape. He was surprised that he hadn't thought of it before. _I've been doing it for years! _And now a plan began to formulate in his head. He would change into a rat (he was rarely glad of getting this Animagus form in particular, but now was the time), slip through the old broken floorboard upstairs, and escape outside. Then he would Apparate to Godric's Hollow and he could warn James and Lily that Voldemort was on the warpath, and to be careful when they went out, and could he stay with them, please, until the whole mess was over?

"I pity you, Wormtail," said Voldemort, evidently surprised by how long this was taking. "No brains at all. You can't even understand that I mean to kill you if you don't tell me. And you _certainly _are not understanding in the least that I, being an expert at Legilimency, can see with an incredible amount of ease into the realm of your mind. Do not attempt escape. I know _all_ about your monthly habits when you were in school."

He brought Peter even closer.

"_Tell me, Peter Pettigrew_," snarled Voldemort. His nostril slits widened in annoyance, His eyes narrowed. His snake-like features became bestial. "_Tell me, _or I kill _you_."

Even in the middle of the mess he was in, Peter couldn't help being a bit triumphant. "But if you kill me," he exclaimed proudly, you'll have no one to tell you the Potters' location."

"The spell will be unraveled upon your death. Come now, Peter. Think rationally. Death for the Potters…or life with me?"

Peter faltered. He was drowning in a pool of his own hate, for Voldemort and for himself. For his friends, he felt only sadness.

_What would you have done, James? Lily? _he asked silently. He laughed bitterly within himself. He was _already _acting as if they were dead. He thought of plump, giggling Harry.

In a whisper, he told the Dark Lord everything.

**Three chapters left. Still got to revise those. Hopefully I can make it a lot longer. The full story was between 1000 and 1100 words last time. With four chapters, I consider that just **_**slightly**_** pathetic. Hopefully I can make this around 1000 words a chapter. For me, that's a LOT!**

**To the bottom left, you can click on a button that gives you what I want most out of all the things in the world. :D**

**-ano**


	2. Friends and Casserole

II – Friends and Casserole

October 30, 6:29 PM

_It is amazing_, thought Peter, _that I can be sitting here at the Potters' table, knowing that without a doubt, they will be dead in a few hours if I don't tell them they will be, and yet I am not telling them._

James, Sirius, and Remus were eating Lily's tuna casserole as eagerly as small puppies, but Peter barely moved. He stared at the casserole. _I don't deserve this._

Remus tapped him on the shoulder. "What's wrong, Wormtail?" he asked, with friendly concern. Peter shied away from his touch, and Remus frowned in confusion.

James looked up. "Something wrong?" He took a large bite of casserole. Sirius ate without stopping, his attention focused solely on his food.

James continued, "You've never skipped Lil's casserole yet, Pete. Are you ill?"

Sirius looked up at last. He seemed about to say something, but Remus spoke first. "Bare's cat get your tongue?"

Kraasen Bare was Peter's Norwegian next-door neighbor, a foul-mouthed, cat-loving old man with a wooden leg and an unsteady heart. Peter had often confided that he wished that 'the bloody organ would get it over with already'.

To add to the horror of the senior, a small fur-ball of a cat named Ricky highly enjoyed a sport called 'Scratch Peter Pettigrew's Face Off'. This was the joke, and despite himself, Peter almost grinned.

Lily walked in then, carrying her famous chicken caesar salad, to behold Peter's pale face and three friends looking at him anxiously. Motherly as she had become, she immediately rushed to Peter's side, barely pausing to set down the salad on the dining room table.

Peter looked around. There was James, hazel eyes gazing out at him from behind light-reflecting glasses, his wild hair neater than usual, probably because Lily was forcing him to comb it as hard as he could. Lily was, of course, there as well; she was the red-headed queen of the group, her fiery temper matching every inch of her hair. They would be dead within hours.

There was Sirius, long black hair ("like a girl's," James would mutter on occasion) rolling down his back like a waterfall. And Remus, with short brown hair and as always, a bookish look about him. They would be hunting him, wanting to kill him, within hours.

"No," he said slowly, as if his tongue were made of lead. "I'm not hungry." It was true; he felt sick.

The room was a kingdom of icy uncomfort. Nobody spoke, and silence reigned, punctuated only by the sounds of Sirius eating. At last, he licked his plate clean and looked up once more. "Can I say something now?"

The words felt deafening after the long silence. They looked amongst themselves, as if trying to decide who should answer the question.

Then all eyes fell on Remus, and he sighed. "Go on," he told Sirius. Happy to comply, he turned to Peter and said eagerly, "Can I eat your casserole? Although I think you're pretty crazy not to yourself."

Peter smiled weakly. "Go ahead," he replied, but Lily whacked Sirius on the head.

The ice was melting.

Sirius yelped loudly, and rubbed his head ruefully. "Sorry, _may _I?" Lily swiped at him again, this time with the salad bowl. Some of the lettuce landed on Sirius's lap, and a tomato plopped itself down between his ear and the side of his head, seeming to stick to the ear like tape.

"You've had your portion, Sirius," Lily laughed. "Don't go begging after more like a street dog. There's plenty of salad left."

"But I'm hungry!" protested Sirius. "Tell you what, Wormtail. I'll take the casserole off your hands if you eat some salad."

James made a face. "You call that a _deal_?"

Sirius looked affronted. "Go on then, tell me the dictionary meaning! Bet it's something like what I said!"

Remus was only too happy to run into the living room and get the large Webster's dictionary that Lily had insisted on, though James hadn't seen the use in it.

Sirius followed, talking as quickly as he could: "I was _joking_, Moony! Honestly, you wouldn't know a joke if you tripped over it..." And so on.

Remus walked back in carrying a large black book, which he lay down on the table. He carefully flipped the thin pages over until he came to the word.

"_Deal,_" he read, "An agreement between parties (usually reached through discussions) fixing obligations of each."

He glared at Sirius, who grinned. "Ah, well," he said. "So much for that."

A timer rang, and baby Harry began to cry. Lily threw up her hands in dismay. "_Darn_ this housekeeping business! My nerves are frazzled by all this cooking and cleaning and taking care of the baby!"

Sirius nudged James hard in the ribs. "Ooh, your wife is getting annoyed," he said with a wicked grin. "You better start helping around the house or she'll be leaving you in a couple of months."

Peter gulped. His lower lip trembled. He noticed that Remus was watching him closely, and made and effort to calm himself.

"Nah," called Lily from Harry's nursery, "I think I'll keep him."

They all laughed, and the kingdom of ice was broken. They fell into a Quidditch discussion. Remus rolled his eyes and began perusing the dictionary. Sirius staunchly defended the Chudley Cannons, but James pulverized his argument, claiming that 'the Wimbourne Wasps were going all the way that year.'

A fist squeezed tight around Peter's heart. James wouldn't be here to see the Wasps 'go all the way.'

A warm smell of baking cookies wafted into the dining room. Remus caught Peter's eye and beckoned towards the living room. When James and Sirius looked up, he said apologetically, "I just want to talk yo Peter for a moment."

Peter sat petrified. Then, despite his foreboding, he followed Remus into the room.

Once they reached the far corner, Remus turned. "We need to talk, Pete."

Peter's heart skipped a beat in terror, but Remus continued as if he didn't notice his friend's sudden color change. "You seem out of sync with everything, Peter. I know something's wrong. Just tell me, and you know we'll all help you with it.

Peter was tempted. All he would have to do was speak. A few words. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words came out garbled. Terrified, he grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. His words came out shaky; it looked as if he was illiterate. Remus was looking at him, his eyebrows raised, but in concern, not amusement. Finally, Peter burst out angrily, "It's none of your business! You three have always ruled my life, trying to help me, but ruling! Let me handle this BY MYSELF for once!"

The words didn't make sense, and he knew they didn't. He felt a tear drip down his cheek, and before Remus could speak again, he wiped it away and ran back into the dining room. He heard Remus give an immense sigh.

He sat down before Remus entered the room, pasting a smile onto his face. It quickly vanished when he realized that James and Sirius were gazing at him in utter confusion. They must have heard him; Peter was sure he had spoken quietly, but he supposed they must have at least heard the last few words, because they had risen beyond his normal speaking voice.

Sirius considered him. "You okay, mate?"

"Yeah." The word slipped out before he could even think about it.

Sirius shrugged. The quidditch discussion continued as Remus entered. He caught Peter's eye as he sat at the table, but Peter looked away, refusing to be goaded into bursting out once more with mixed-up words. Voldemort had evidently cast a spell on him. He didn't like it, but he didn't want to be made a fool of again.

Lily came in from the kitchen, a plate of chocolate cookies gripped in one hand and Harry held in the crook of her other arm. She set the cookies down without looking at Peter. His fists clenched in agony. What could he do? About anything?

_Plenty_, he thought. But he didn't do anything.

After dessert, Sirius stood, a cookie in one hand and another in his mouth. "Come on," he said, nodding towards Peter and Remus. "I'll take you two home on my bike."

Peter's head was whirling with conflicting emotions.

_If only they knew. Voldemort. _

He wanted to spit, but he didn't. So many things that he didn't do. Would never do.

He hunched his shoulders and followed Sirius out to the storage shed.

**About 1000 words added to this chapter.**


	3. Anger, Sorrow, and Crazy Laughter

**Thanks to chibi Charlie-chan, penwriter95, znb1000, and kandinskythegreat for reviewing; you guys are great! Many thanks, and enjoy the next chapter!**

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III – Anger, Sorrow, and Crazy Laughter

November 1, 1:22 AM

Sirius stood, lonely and sorry, before the ruins of the Potter house. Now that it was destroyed, it was visible to all the world, and confused Muggles gathered hesitantly around what they had only minutes earlier believed to be a wide stretch of grass, where children played ball and freeze tag and where families had picnics. They had always avoided that particular part of the grass, but nobody had bothered to think why.

So Sirius stood among the Muggles, confused and angry at heart. Peter was the secret-keeper. Peter was dead? Or had he betrayed them? He dismissed the second one. And then dismissed the first one; he had seen Peter only a few minutes before.

The dots were in front of him, spread out like a map, but he didn't connect them. Slowly, however, it dawned on him that if Peter was alive, and if Lily and James weren't, something had gone terribly, horribly wrong.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, patting him in what was meant to be a soothing way, but which actually forced Sirius to brace himself in order not to fall over. Thankfully, the patting soon stopped. Hagrid lumbered out from behind him, towards the wreck that had once been home to his friends. The Muggles looked on in awe as he easily shifted beams and the remains of walls, going deeper and deeper into the mess. At last he emerged, plowing through everything in order to get back to the world beyond the house. He seemed to be carrying something in his arms, and Sirius's heart leapt. The big man approached, and Sirius stood on tiptoe to see whatever it was. He breathed a sigh of relief; it was Harry, alive and well except for a head wound, probably gained from something falling on him. But he would live.

And then it caught up with him, that Lily and James wouldn't. That Peter was alive and well, too, and that it meant that he had betrayed them. Betrayed them. His own friends. Sirius screamed. A high, wordless scream that did nothing to ease the pent-up frustration booming inside him. "Dammit," he whispered. "And they all think _I'm_ the secret-keeper. That _I _betrayed them."

He paused, as an idea occurred to him. Hagrid was already forging a path back through the crowd. "HAGRID!" he shouted, shoving his way through. The half-giant turned, and Sirius was relieved when his gaze was only puzzled; he evidently didn't know anything about a secret-keeper.

"What is it?" asked Hagrid once Sirius had caught up with him.

Sirius hesitated. Could he really give it up? "Take my bike," he said at last.

Hagrid started in surprise. "Yeh sure?" he rumbled uneasily. Stony-faced, Sirius nodded.

"It'll help Harry," he said. "I...I have to help Harry. I'm his godfather." Before he could have second thoughts, he added, "It's just down the street. Tap it with your umbrella." He winked, and Hagrid chuckled.

"Yeh're a good man, Black," he said, his face softening. "I'm sorry 'bout James an' Lily..."

"I don't want to think about it," Sirius said. "They're...they're gone now. I can't think about it...now. I just...have to go." Hagrid shrugged and gave him one last pat on the shoulder. Eveb as Sirius struggled to stop himself from falling over, Hagrid turned and walked down the street.

Sirius watched until Hagrid wheeled the motorcycle behind a tree, until he heard the roar of the engine, which only a few of the Muggles paid any attention to, until a faint cry in the distance from Harry signalled that they were gone. Sirius felt his heart sink. It had been nice to have Hagrid around.

But hardening his heart, Sirius set off in the other direction. He had a rat to find.

August 20, 3:46 PM

He had been searching for hours without food or sleep before he found him.

Sirius whirled on Peter (who was eating a sandwich at a Muggle deli, his eyes darting around wildly, justing waiting for one of his school friends to come after him) angrily, eyes blazing, wand crackling. "You!" he snarled. They were in the middle of a Muggle street, but he didn't care. All he cared about was that Wormtail died for what he had done. Anger pulsed through his veins and resounded through his skull.

"_Wormtail_." He spat the name out, vehemence pounding in every word he spoke. "_Worm _is more like it. A worm I want to bloody _crush _just so I can feel blood running through my fingers, so I know that the one who betrayed

Peter anxiously cast a spell at him, but it was too weak in willpower to do any harm. However, Peter's opponent was serious. Without warning he spat out the Cruciatus. Peter wisely stepped out of the way, and the spell reduced an already wincing man to a helpless screaming mess. Sirius stopped the spell.

"Petrificus totalus!" Peter squeaked. With a nasty expression on his face, Sirius merely repelled the spell with a shield charm.

Peter bit his lip and quickly assessed the situation. How could he escape? Sirius was stronger than him, faster than him, smarter than him. One chance, he realized. That was all he got, and he had to take it, no matter how much it hurt his friend. He yelled those words which were for so many years considered his last: "Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?" Then he viciously muttered a spell and a detonation boomed, littering huge chunks of cement and brick onto previously unharmed buildings.

Shrieks rent the air, and great outbursts of horror and rage filled the gaps between them, leaving behind a void of suffering, despair, and helplessness.

Hidden behind a cloak of smoke, Peter slipped his knife through his thumb and winced. He frowned and tried to make it look more jagged; it would look like Sirius had done it, done all of it, caused the explosion, killed the Muggles... not to mention poor Peter Pettigrew. _I'm sorry, Sirius, _he thought. But he wasn't, and he knew it. The knowledge tore at him like bramble bushes. Sadly, he changed into a rat and slipped into the wrecked sewers.

When the smoke cleared, Sirius saw what had happened. _How convenient for him, _he thought, and to his surprise, he began to laugh. None of this was happening. James and Lily were alive. Harry wasn't living with those awful Muggles. Peter had never told Voldemort about the Potters' house. He wasn't standing in a dilapidated street in the middle of Brixton. None of it was happening.

His laughter increased. Hands on his hips, his face towards the stars, he guffawed; several sobbing mothers pulled their staring children away from him. Volunteers from St. Mungo's were the first to arrive. They ignored Sirius and loaded a few magically harmed Muggles onto stretchers. Others knelt beside dying Muggles and healed them then and there. Teams of obliviators arrived soon after and immediately set to work. Finally came the Minister of Magic with some aurors, who dragged Sirius away like a criminal. He quieted to low chuckles. "None of it," he whispered despairingly. "None of it is happening."

**About 700 words added to this chapter.**

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